i meant (italicized)
to commit
to many things.

i meant (underlined)
to submit to
my authority.

obligation.
restriction.
(pause) deterioration.

i go over the
f o r m u l a
over and
(caps) over

again. one
that no (bold) one
looks at.

but me (underlined).
accepting what i see.
some form of (italicized)

rotary dial coin slot skipping cd broken sink peanut
butter and jelly crust click push breathe particles
layered dust on the window sill.

commited to a mental
institution (meant to).
middle eastern tradition.

no variety (elipse) —sonic boom—
no room for parady (italics) commit
suicide.

a process according
to the scribbles
of man.

and a pattern that
absolutely
nothing
amounts
to (period).

What does one do
When
We bleed to know we're alive?
Weeds have taken over there
In the garden of Eden
Licking chalk, from the side walk
To feel something other
Than the insanity of emptiness
Or the emptiness of insanity
Drink to numb
Write to feel
Tell me
Tell me
I hear nothing
And nothing....

Today, I saw a man on top of his rooftop
Whirling snow off with a string
He seems to have given it a lot of thought

Then I remember my father pouring tar on the roof top
Of our house: but that was for another reason
To prevent a leaking roof during heavy rain

The small buckets my mother would line up to
Catch the water, oh the little things we remember
From our childhood, oh the little smile we get
When we speak of the dearly departed

The mind of the poet never leaks the emotions
of love that flashes by:
As he held on to old memories like no other

her golden fullness
wanton astride
peaked horizon

moon-ravaged
impassioned night
bites down hard

Someone is writing a poem in the dark
Just to escape from the light of things
Nothing can escape from a black hole,
Creating fewer images in one’s mind,
I wonder if they can see a streak of light
Fighting its way through darkness

I can see them falling deeper and deeper
Falling, falling, but not enough to fill the void
A gun, a razor blade, a handful of narcotic, now it’s
the video cameras, an unusual collectible to assist with the pain
Keys, bolts and iron bars, hopelessly romantic
and deeply subversive: Madness takes center stage.



P>S
So when you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there's always madness. Madness is the emergency exit.”
― Alan Moore, Batman: The Killing Joke

Where is the grief
that should write your face
leaving no trace
of joy’s expression
only rivers of red depression?

Where is the pain
that should be drawn in
till each line ages you
as it should do?

Where is the wisdom achieved
in feeling such grief
in bending to weep
from the sorrows you see?

Where is the hope and conviction born
from seeing the forlorn,
hearing the horrors that sound inhumanity
then standing to see a whole city
raging against such indignities?

Where is the righteous outrage
that you display
for a symbolic piece of cloth
that represents states that owned slaves
or the red white and blue
that you pledge your allegiance to
when it is torn, burned,
stepped on, or frayed?
Shouldn’t that anger be parlayed
into seeking justice
for those who were betrayed
for the ones who went away
to be kissed by the lips of death
and the ones who stayed
trying to make ends meet
for the human beings
who mean so much more to me?

Seriously, where is your ******* human decency?

Takest me to the empyrean
Juncture; where none tears
Do ever fall, where human
Heart's never puncture.

Takest me to the railway,
Where men art free,
vunestasleek;
unfettered
Hands.

Takest me where eternal
Water's art sipped by
The daughter's of
Holy men.

Takest me to glory's
Roof, loves not aloof;
In the kingdom of
Saint's.

Takest me, O' takest
Me, where no-one
Screams, where
No blood is seen,
Where life's not
Faint.

©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry